The Psychology of A Grimm
by mabelreid
Summary: One shot tag to "A Dish Best Served Cold." Nick is in his trailer brooding over what Captain Renard said when he get an unexpected visitor. Nick and Monroe friendship fic


**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_A/n this is a short tag to "A Dish Best Served Cold." Please enjoy._**

**_The Psychology of A Grimm_**

Nick opened the weapon cabinet of his trailer and stared into it as if he could find the answers he needed. The flail he'd let Monroe borrow for Halloween, hung in prominent view, and not for the first time did he think about all the death and pain it had caused over the centuries. He reached forward and touched one of the spikes. How much Wesen blood had it spilled in the hands of his ancestors?

The door to his trailer opened and he whirled around with the flail in his hands instead of his gun. "Monroe?"

His friend and Wieder Blutblad stopped short and held up both hands. "Whoa… little tense, are we. You really should take my advice and start Pilates, Nick. It'll help you relax."

"What do you want?"

"No need to snap," Monroe said calmly. "Juliette told me you were here."

Nick returned the flail to its place in the cabinet and shut the door. "Can I help you with something?" He asked as he returned to his usual seat at the table covered with his Grimm inheritance in the form of very old books and journals.

"No, I just wanted to thank you again for taking down Chef Ostler."

"I'm just happy your friends cooperated."

"I won't say they didn't have their doubts, but they know in this world you have to keep a low profile and a pack of Blutbaden killing a Bauerschwien in downtown Portland doesn't help the Wesen community."

Nick nodded as he fingered one of his books while he stared at the opposite wall of the trailer.

"Hey, is there something wrong?"

Nick didn't answer so Monroe got up. "I'll just leave you alone and -"

"You didn't come out here to tell me thanks," Nick said suddenly, as if breaking out of a dream.

"Juliette is worried about you so…"

Nick sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at his friend until Monroe sighed. "I've been worried about you too. You haven't been yourself since the Baron Samedi thing."

"No, I suppose I haven't," Nick said shortly. "I killed a man."

"Yes, you did, but you didn't know what you were doing."

"On some level I did," Nick retorted. "I'm starting to remember and I remember killing that man in the bar."

Monroe started in surprise. "You do? Juliette didn't say anything about your memory coming back."

"She doesn't know and I'd like to keep it that way for a little while. She's worried enough about me as it is."

"We all are," Monroe advised him.

"I'm fine, it's just that…"

Monroe watched him get up and go back to his weapon cabinet. He removed a wicked looking wooden club, one that he'd used to kill.

"I wonder how many Wesen my ancestors killed with this," he said as he held it up in the light. "How much blood?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because Captain Renard is right."

"Right about what?"

"He asked me if I was upset because I'd killed a human, not Wesen."

"Oh," Monroe said. "Now there's a loaded question."

"How can you be flippant? He's right! The first time I killed one of you," He pointed to Monroe, "I didn't feel guilty. It was like I was doing what I was meant to do. I would have killed you had you been the one to take that little girl two years ago."

"I know, makes me very happy I decided to go vegetarian."

Nick put the club back in its place. "Maybe the Captain is right. I'm using the fact that I'm a Grimm not to feel guilty about killing."

"Look," Monroe said. "You're not like other Grimms. You take the time to weigh a situation and you do the right thing. You gave me a chance. You could have killed that Stangebar that attacked Rosalee and me and infected her, but instead you helped him and he's still alive. You could have shot Rosalee when she attacked you in that alleyway, but you knocked her out instead because she was ill. You could have turned in the Gluenvolk that killed that farmer because he was protecting his family, but you let him go. And there was the -"

"I get what you're saying," Nick interrupted. "For all the Wesen I've put in jail, or forgiven for their crimes, there are others I've killed without a second thought. What does that say about me? Why aren't you angry with me?"

"Why should I be angry with you?"

"Because I'm fine with killing Wesen, but not humans. I should feel badly over both, not one. What does that make me?"

"It makes you a Grimm."

Nick thumped out of his chair and began to pace the trailer. "My ancestors believed that at best, Wesen are an inferior species and at worst the incarnation of all our fears and nightmares. Does that make killing you right?"

Monroe pulled his beige jacket closed and got up to go to the door. "I can't tell you what to think or feel, Nick. You're going to have to figure this out for yourself."

"That's basically what the Captain said."

"For a Royal, I'd say he has some good sense."

Monroe left the trailer without another word and Nick went back to his weapon cabinet. He opened it and stared at the contents for long minutes then shut it with a hard bang. The answer wasn't there, but Monroe was right about one thing, he had to figure it out for himself no matter how elusive the answer.


End file.
